This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,68
When Dad went missing, I should’ve gotten the hell out of here. Even if I had to live on the streets before I found a job, it would’ve been better than listening to someone insult my missing, possibly dead father. How much of a fucking psycho do you have to be to not feel any empathy for someone?
“Dakota, wait.”
I ignore him. Everything is going wrong. I want to wash myself of this place for good. Does it matter nothing that my family was one of the first settlers and possibly found one of the greatest historical treasures? No, it only matters that it’s lost, I guess.
“Would you stop? Please.” He grabs my hips with both hands and hauls me back to him. “Wait.”
“Why?” I ask. “What does it even matter?” His engagement is official now. I had no idea that was even going to happen. That means everything he said about breaking it off when he gets what he wants from his father will be more difficult now.
He checks the doorknob next to us. When it moves, he eases it open, and drags me into what looks like an unused office. He guides my back against the door, locking it with a deafening click that signifies we’re alone. A defining moment we both chose to put ourselves in.
“Dakota Wilder, do you think I wanted that stupid announcement? Do you think I liked posing for hours, pretending I was happy just to make our parents happy? The photographer kept telling me I wasn’t photogenic. Do you know why? Because I kept picturing you, and every time I looked toward her and it wasn’t you, my heart sunk a little more. I couldn’t keep up the façade. All I wanted was to get in my car and throw myself at you, beg you for forgiveness for bringing you into this fucked up situation, but even worse, I felt terrible because I wouldn’t take it away for the world. Because finally, I get to be next to you without you looking like you hate me every damn moment. I must be one fucked-up person because I like the fact that you’re upset over this; that you want to claim me as much as I want to claim you.”
I seal our lips together. I devour him, keeping the intensity of the kiss while he matches it, moaning into me. He presses his hips forward, erection digging into me.
“Are you wearing one of the bras I bought you?” he asks, his nose pressed into my cheek as he takes a breath.
I nod, and he lifts up my shirt, bringing it right over my head. My own breaths almost push my breasts out of the silky, blue cups.
“I would’ve had you in anything, but I knew you were embarrassed. I hope these make you feel as sexy as you are.”
I can’t lie, I fucking love them, but it’s these guys that make me feel sexy, not what I’m wearing. They look at me like I’m to be cherished and ravished at the same time. I hook my hands into the waistband of his jeans and yank him closer. “Stone....”
He kisses a trail down my neck, his lips tracing my collarbone before he guides his tongue along the edge of my bra. He moves his hands up to cup them, squeezing. He edges the material over to lick my nipple, and my knees feel like Jell-O.
He replaces the bra back in place and drops his hands to my hips. “You’re beautiful, Dakota. Inside and out.” He kisses me again, then guides his cheek over mine. “I have to go fix this now,” he tells me. “I’m sure Meghan’s going to try to get you expelled. Saint Clary’s has a zero-tolerance policy about fighting, but don’t worry, it’s not happening.”
“I barely hit her,” I complain.
He pulls back, his gray-blue gaze searing into mine. “I know. And trust me, I wanted you to kick her ass, but we have other ways to do that.” His eyes light with a fiery threat. He bends over to pick up my shirt, turns it right side out, and pulls it over my head, helping my hands through the holes.
He kisses my forehead lightly, his lips lingering. “And don’t take this as me not wanting to strip you bare and make you come around my cock as many times as I can.” He heaves a breath. “I’m just trying to be smart.”
“You’re better than me,” I admit, my hands clenching in his shirt.